


Old Goat

by HT_Pantu



Category: Black Sails
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 13:56:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3413204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HT_Pantu/pseuds/HT_Pantu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After S2.e3 (XI) - Silver needs a firm talking to about his recent lack of self-preservation, but good leaders and large quantities of gold aren't that easy to come by - *thats* why he's still in Flint's crew. He's certain.<br/>Mostly smut, that I wrote because I said I would :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Goat

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't seen episode XII and XIII yet, so I've no idea if this is way off or not, it just took my fancy.

# Old Goat

The ship creaked and groaned as it was caressed by the afternoon's shallow waves. Despite the calm of the ocean, there was an air of barely contained anger that seethed beneath the deck. The crew had found someone to direct their anger at, and their storm brewed as it waited to be released.

In the ship's galley, John Silver considered the ulcer on the inside of his cheek with the tip of his tongue. Stress did not sit well on him. All he'd wanted was to make enough easy money to escape the sea, and now he was more embroiled in this life than ever before. It was with a grimace of self-awareness that Silver realised he would still take the ledger were he able to change the past – he would just be more particular over his accomplices given a second chance. After all, gold was gold, and there were few things that held John Silver's attention like the prospect of funding for a simple life ashore. By simple, he meant outlandishly extravagant, and there in lay the problem.

In Silver's admittedly biased opinion there was only one thing more important than gold, and that was the life and health of one John Silver. Even then it was a close thing. Take now for example. His life had been in jeopardy since Captain Flint had attacked his old place of employ. The stress was giving him ulcers for heaven's sake, and yet here he was. Not only had he chosen to remain on Flint's increasingly fractious crew, but he was backing a man whose morals were flexible enough to to see the death of his only ally in pursuit of his goals.

It was most assuredly that those dreams of Captain Flint's included vast amounts of gold that Silver remained onboard. He was certain of it. It had nothing to do with the occasional dabbling he partook of when he fancied a change from the whore-house.

No. Because that would be suicidal.

It occurred to Silver that such a thing would not be out of character of late.

He was a strong swimmer. Even so, he and Flint both had almost drowned when he had taken it upon himself to rescue the Captain from the Sea's last embrace. Not to mention that at the time he'd had no idea how he would go about talking them both out of the rope. However it was the unfortunate case that leaders who would stop at nothing to secure large quantities of gold were in short supply. Silver had always been more of an ideas man, he had limited inclinations to boss around men who were willing to sate their desires with livestock and wipe their arses with their bare hands. He had always found it suited him to leave the bossing to others and remain in the shadows, where he was safe from mutiny.

So why...

Silver ended that train of thought before it could add a headache to the list of stress induced maladies that ailed him.

A grunt was Silver's only warning before Randal dropped a whole salted goat on the galley bench. The pungent scent of the meat wasn't overpowered by the tang of salt.

'Thief,' Randal said in the slightly brisker version of his hiss that meant he was amused. Silver was more or less certain that Randal knew Silver was no cook.

'Yes, Randal,' Silver replied on a sigh and gave the man a dour look over his shoulder.

Randal picked his nose and sat down in front of one seemingly endless barrel of potatoes. Silver was very much undecided about whether Randal was a genius or an idiot. After all, the man had lost a leg and a friend whilst trying to save a cat. In the grand scheme of things, Silver was not sure which of his two unlikely allies he was more foolish to befriend.

He prodded the skinned goat, and with an excuse he definitely shouldn't have needed, he decided on a visit to the Captain.

Captain James Flint was brooding. He did it exceptionally well. Years of practice Silver supposed. Flint didn't look up from the log he was studying, even when the door latched shut behind Silver.

'Old goat.' Silver broke the silence when it became clear that Flint had no intention of breaking his study.

Flint looked up without raising his chin. His pale eyes were, as always, disconcertingly devil worthy; as in the fallen angel lucifer, or the snake that charmed Eve. Silver decided not to dwell on the particulars of that thought any longer.

'It was all we could get after you bade me make a tribute out of our original supplies,' Silver said in answer to one interpretation of the silent stare he received from Flint.

Flint's eyebrows gave the impression of lifting whilst remaining firmly furrowed.

'The locals use spice to cover the flavour,' Flint said at last and continued to list a series of spices that meant significantly more to Silver now than they would have done a month ago. 'Do you need me to write it down?'

Silver gave him the dour look such a suggestion required. He strode to the desk instead. His dark hair snaked before his eyes, but he didn't push it away as he leant to get a better look at Flint's study.

'What is afoot?'

The desk the Spanish captain had once enjoyed was wide as a bed, and Silver braced a palm against it to get a better view. The sight did not fill him with undue confidence. He glanced up and met Flint's gaze, realisation made his own expression grim.

'You mean to take the fort?'

'Vane must be removed from that position. You are the fool I did not take you for if you think we can return with the Urca's gold while he sits in that fort.'

Silver grimaced.

'I do not disagree, but perhaps there are other solutions to be had. Ones that do not have Nassau in our crossfire.'

'I did not have you down for a man who concerns himself with the welfare of others over the health of his purse.'

'My concern is simply that gold is of little use to a man if he has no place to spend it. You were willing to speak with Vane before, why not again?'

Something tightened across Flint's brow, a twitch of one eyelid that spoke of what he wouldn't: before was different. _Before_ had been when Gates had still been breathing, had been before Flint had committed himself above such base concerns as human life.

'We will build it again,' Flint said as though it were just a house of cards he meant to topple.

Silver considered his Captain. It was a heady thing to meet a man who was his equal in wit, but Silver knew all too well how often intelligence could cause more trouble than it saved.

'Five million is a lot of gold.'

Silver received the wry expression such a statement warranted.

'Congratulations on your grasp of reality, you continue to astound me.'

Silver felt the seed of an idea thrum through his blood. The droll smirk on Flint's calculated expression was nothing but a challenge that set his nerves alight beneath his skin. He jerked like a puppet with a drunkard on its strings as he snapped upright and skimmed the edge of the desk. He leant over Flint's shoulder to press one blistered finger against the drawing of the fort that loomed it's protection over Nassau. A good plan was better than strong coffee and sharper than the cheapest rum. Silver leant in, felt beside him the shape of Flint's attention captured as his idea unraveled for them both.

'Are you still trying to impress me?' Flint said when Silver was done. The frown was still on Flint's face, but something had changed. It pulled at one corner of Flint's lips and made the question into more than the sum of its parts.

Silver realised he was bent over the desk, practically over Flint's lap while he craned over one shoulder to meet the man's gaze. His words had come fast, thick with adrenaline, and he hadn't realised he was staring into Flint's death-blue eyes with such intensity.

Silver decided that he was going to have to have a serious sit down with his sanity sometime soon, because he was damned if he wasn't trying to do just that. Trying to impress sociopaths was most certainly _not_ in the Silver approved handbook on how to survive life threatening situations. It was actually in the section about how _not_ to live a long and prosperous life, alongside flirting with said sociopath when sodomy was definitely frowned upon when not with cattle.

Still, Silver smiled right back.

'This isn't me trying.'

They were too close, and for too long, and the not quite certainty over what game he was getting involved in set a fire beneath Silver's skin that defied his claims of a wish to retire to a quiet life.

'There are more ways than your way.' Silver leant in, not quite certain if he was talking about Flint's plan or his own desires. Something hot and terrifying appeared in the corpse-blue Flint claimed as eyes, and in response fear and lust twisted in the buzz that thrummed through Silver's bones. It was a headier cocktail than the storm tossed sea.

There was a knock at the cabin door.

The thwack of it stole Silver's balance and in his haste to extract himself he fell. His hip thumped the edge of the desk as he went down, and he landed in a wincing mess at Flint's feet.

'Come,' Flint said before Silver had even managed to finish wedging a hand beneath himself.

Silver stilled as the cabin door opened with a draft of salt stained air. He had two choices: stand and draw question over what exactly he had been doing at the Captain's feet, or stay where he was, with an eyeline of Flint's thighs – amongst other things.

Silver was not above rumours, they had saved his position on this crew after all, and he would have simply risen to his feet had it not been for the look Flint had given him before he called for the Quartermaster to enter. His expression had been pure disdain, and just the barest hint of amusement. Silver had hesitated, and the chance was lost.

Flint stood, booted feet spread wide as he leant forward to give instructions to Dufresne. The Quartermaster was a nice fellow, but naive. He was too much in his books and the responsibility had gone to his head–

Silver's attention jerked back to the conversation as he realised that Flint's instructions sounded an awful lot _unlike_ Silver's suggestion, and a lot like a suicidal attempt on the fort.

 _The bastard son of a selkie whore._ Silver bristled, because it had been a good plan, and a damn sight better than the destruction Flint seemed determined to rain down on Nassau. Silver didn't want to wait 5 years to spend his hard won gold.

Silver had been toying with the idea of getting his own back while he was trapped on his knees, but when he reached for Flint's leg it was a whole lot less provocative than some of his earlier ideas. He tugged at Flint's boot tops as Dufresne asked if their was another option. He practically punched the Captain's knees out from beneath him, but Flint barely flinched and answered in the negative. The men were riled up enough to agree with their reinstated Captain, but that didn't make the plan a good one – sheep rarely made informed decisions. Silver prodded and poked and generally made a nuance of himself. All it earned him was a boot to the fingers and he had to clench his teeth against the sudden pain of it.

When the door thunked shut behind the Quartermaster, Silver's frustration was only matched by his furry.

'You motherless morron!' Silver surged to his feet, all thoughts of earlier - _mostly_ \- gone from his system. That was right up until he found himself slammed bodily against the nearest joist. It was hard enough to knock the breath out of him, the arm across his neck firm enough to make catching that breath difficult. He had half a second to consider that this was why one did not poke bears –or sociopaths– and then Flint kissed him and Silver's head made an empty sound followed by a prayer that ended with _fuck_.

The kiss was a lot like Flint himself; coldly calculated anger that seethed like a typhoon just beneath the frozen surface. Then Flint wedged his leg between Silver's thighs and Silver forgot that he was supposed to be taking care of his senses around this man. There was just the dry rasp of Flint's lips, firm enough to pin his skull against the strut he'd been slammed against. Then there were teeth and Silver made a sound that definitely wasn't as angry as it should have been.

Silver pushed back, the hand on his throat held and all he did was grind against the thigh between his own.

Flint sniggered against Silver's lips as Silver jerked at the contact. The bastard son of a whore laughed! Silver made a sound that was more growl than moan, his opinion on the situation decidedly mixed. They were equals. He just needed to –

Flint's fingers pressed into Silver's hips hard enough to bruise as he tugged them closer together. He broke the kiss but remained with his face barely a coin's width from Silver's own.

'Now, you are going to do what I say, and put that wit of yours to my cause, and if you do it well and neither of us are dead, perhaps I will indulge you further.'

'Goddamn you,' Silver hissed, the words he sought for breathless and rasping but words none-the-less. 'You're the sodomite who pinned me to this god-forsaken joist to stick your tongue down my throat. I am not some adolescent to be intoxicated by a kiss, goddamn.'

'You could have fooled me.' Flint's smirk was relaxed and equal parts attractive and infuriating. Silver was concentrating on the later to fuel his ire – it helped inordinately.

'How about you follow _my_ plan and _I_ don't tell the crew you're inclined toward sodomy,' Silver growled right back.

Flint increased the pressure against Silver's throat and Silver had a moment to consider that he had reached the limits of his wit and luck both, before Flint withdrew his arm. Flint shifted so his palm was braced against the wooded joist beside Silver's head. Flint leant in, a smirk curled one side of his face, a disconcerting contrast to the lingering heat of his gaze. It was the first time Silver had seen him hold anything resembling a smile.

'I take your point. Then how about we mutually agree to leave politics out of … _this_.' Flint said and inclined his chin, leaving Silver with little doubt as to his meaning. He still smirked, but Silver wasn't fooled – Silver doubted that their was any action Flint took that was not carefully calculated.

Silver realised with a start that the sensation of finding someone to match his wits was perhaps mutual, only Flint saw it as a threat rather than a boon. 'You are scared of me,' he said, surprised by his own revelation.

Flint raised one pale eyebrow.

'You believe I can out-think you,' Silver began, slow and deadly serious, keenly aware that his continued existence perhaps rested on him proving to Flint that he wasn't a threat. 'That scares you more than Vane's brute strength. Have you ever met another who could match you?'

Flint's brows grew together then, a memory of someone who perhaps had. A memory he obviously was not disposed to share with Silver. Regardless, Silver was inclined to summarise that the person in question was no longer alive to offer Flint challenge.

'You do not have to bed me to earn my loyalty, Captain. Nor threaten me. So long as you hold the promise of gold I will follow you. However that does not meant I will stand by and condone every godforsaken idea you concoct.'

'No man is so simple.'

'No man but me. What use is power but to entice other men to take it from you, gold is my mistress.'

Flint considered Silver, he was close enough that Silver could see his attention shifting between Silver's eyes.

'Your lies are so good you even have yourself convinced,' Flint said at last. 'No man can live by gold alone.'

Silver inclined his head, his own smile twisting through his cheek as he tried to keep it in check. 'Indeed, he needs a place to spend it, and the sweat of good honest men to make the things he wishes to buy. It is much the same aboard though I think: you cannot Captain a ship alone.'

'Hence I have a crew.'

'You have a crew that are yours only because they hate what you hate. Your Quartermaster's distrust is matched only by his distaste. You remove every man who might make himself your ally.'

Flint's face drew in, deep ridges forming in the tan skin between his brows. Pain resided in the valley of those creases, shying from the light in an attempt to stay hidden. Silver was not surprised to see it – the man was not all the demon he tried to be.

'And you would put yourself in Gates' place?' Flint still leant forward against the palm that was braced beside Silver's head. His shoulders had shifted, and his body was angled slightly away despite the proximity. Silver noticed, and for a moment he wished that he had taken the Captain's offer of no strings no matter how much untruth there was in the sentiment.

'No. I do not have Gates' morals nor strength of character. I prize my life too highly to betray you.'

'Bedding me will not save you if you cross me.' Flint sneered.

'I had no intention of bedding you. That was your idea, if my memory of how we got against this pillar serves me as well as it usually does.' Silver glanced pointedly at the arm which hemmed him in, then returned his gaze to the Captain's. Flint looked a little rueful. It was an oddly playful expression and Silver found it disconcertingly pleasing.

'Although I am honoured that you find me more appealing than Miss Guthrie, or the dairy cow.'

'It was a close call,' Flint said with callous seriousness that was contradicted by his continued proximity and eye contact.

'I cannot make you Quartermaster,' Flint continued after a loaded moment.

'I hardly need your assistance, just your consent.' Silver consider that barely 30 minutes ago he'd had no intentions of being anything other than cook and gossip-master, and now he had somehow promised himself into Flint's service. The goal was not impossible, however it was a shame that it wasn't a position that came with life-surety. If Flint did not trust him as a cook, becoming voice of the crew would hardly improve his standing.

'You never struck me as the kind of man who requires permission for his actions,' Flint's tone was dour.

'Exceptional circumstances. I would rather you not consider I had alterer motives.'

'Just because I give my permission, does not mean I believe your motives unconditional.'

Silver tried not to smirk, or pout, and simply held Flint's gaze and gave a flick of his chin. 'Of course, however I have recently explained that I am motivated by large quantities of gold, as I said: you shall have me so long as you have the gold.'

Flint considered him, his face still too close and cooly calculating.

'And if I want to _have_ more than your support?'

Silver enjoyed the twist of adrenaline that drew tension in his gut. His head screamed that he was the worst kind of fool, but his loins had their own opinion on the matter.

'I have no particular objection,' Silver replied, just as nonchalant.

'How charming.'

'I believe your appreciation is for my quick wit, and quicker tongue... above my charm.'

Flint's pupils were obvious in the blue depths as they blew out until the blue was barely a frame to the darkness of his desires.

This time when Flint leant in, Silver was expecting the kiss. He softened his lips, sinking into the desire rather than being slammed into it. The kiss was still aggressive; enough teeth to make his lips hot, he pressed his hips forward.

Even with Flint's encouragement it was a heady danger that accompanied the lust. Silver found Flint's belt with blind fingers, casting the pistol and sword toward the abandoned chair. Flint freed Silver's own and dropped the mass so he could kick it out of reach. Silver smirked and thrust his hand down the front of Flint's britches. The breath Flint drew through his nose was satisfying to hear. Flint's eyelids lowered and Silver was relieved to see the man could at least manage to let himself go that much.

Silver's cock thickened in response to the hardening of the flesh beneath his palm as he dragged his hand up the shaft.

'Nnn,' Flint breathed, pressing his mouth back over Silver's, his tongue deep and demanding now as his hands pushed at Silver's unsupported waistband. Silver's britches fell around his knees and it was his turn to draw a breath through his teeth as Flint gave a few merciless strokes of Silver's cock. Then his free hand was at Silver's shoulder, he tugged Silver round and Silver scrabbled for stability against the joist as Flint abandoned him half naked and erect.

Silver gave Flint a dour look over his shoulder, righting his balance as Flint went for his desk. Silver considered that he was about to be left uncomfortably aroused, instead Flint knocked the glass from the lamp on the edge of his desk and made a mess pouring the oil from the bowl.

'That had better be castor oil,' Silver said, his expression mixed as he watched Flint stroke himself and leave a sheen of glossy oil behind. Flint glanced up, ran a finger through one of the drips on the desk and pressed it against his tongue.

'It's a Spanish ship,' Flint said as he re-closed the gap between them. He used his forearm to press against Silver's back, leaning him forward as his other hand slid along the exposed skin of Silver's pale ass. 'You will have to make do with olive oil.'

Silver hissed through his clenched teeth as one finger slid between his cheeks and grazed the ridges of his anus. It had been a while since he had found someone with whom he could indulge his alternate interests. Long enough that his hips twitched with anticipation that made Flint give a breathless chuckle. Long enough that he let out a pained sigh as Flint slipped one oiled finger inside him – the pain impatience rather than complaint at a single finger. Silver's own fingers he pressed into the wooden column before him, holding himself up, trying to remain still as Flint chuckled again.

'And you dare call me sodomite,' Flint leant over Silver's back to whisper against his neck as he pressed another finger inside. Silver moaned. Curling his arse up higher to give Flint better access.

'Hush your incessant preening and fuck me already,' Silver said, turning his head just enough to catch sight of a flushed faced Flint through one eye.

Flint smirked at him and split his fingers. Silver hissed again and dropped to rest his forehead against the wood as Flint worked him open with calculated skill. Silver hadn't expected Flint to take the time, but on consideration he wasn't surprised that that man enjoyed the power over Silver's pleasure. He alternated stretching with working on the place inside Silver that set his bones alight and had him panting breathless by the time Flint withdrew for more oil.

Flint coated himself again and Silver let out a unwarranted moan as Flint's cockhead breached his entrance. It didn't hurt so much as throb, and the memory of pleasure had him pressing back to meet Flint's cock in one smooth push that had him arse to hip with his Captain.

'You're tighter than I expected,' Flint leant over him again to whisper against Silver's neck. He pulled Silver up with him, making Silver groan at the shift of pressure. 'I figured the actual reason the crew let you stay was that you were letting everyone onboard fuck you.'

Flint rolled his hips and Silver tried to think of something smart to say, but all he wanted to do was rap a hand around his erection and rock back against the cock buried in him.

'With all due respect, _Captain_ , shut the fuck up and get on with it,' he rasped, his point fractured a little by the hitch of his breath as Flint's cock grazed his prostate.

Flint gave a breathy laugh and drew out. He released his hold on Silver to steady his hips before he rocked forward again. Silver moaned and tilted his hips higher, catching himself against the beam. Flint pressed in again, hard enough that Silver needed both hands to keep himself still. Flint set a steady pace, firm enough to knock the breath and sense from Silver's head and force him to keep both hands against the pillar. Silver was sweating by the time a wordless keen fell from his lips, long and low as he tried to move his hip and find his release. Silver could hear Flint's own heavy breathing, and the sweet throbbing pleasure of his cock as he buried it inside him over and over.

'Fuck,' Silver swore as his release danced just out of his reach. The tension was almost painful as it interrupted his breathing, he tried to free one hand and almost collapsed before he braced himself again. Flint pulled him back against each slap of his hips and groaned a warning, his finger tightening at Silver's hips.

'Goddamn you, Flint,' Silver rasped, fighting for breath as stars danced beneath his skin. 'I need –'

Flint pace faltered, and for a moment Silver thought the man would come and leave him like this. Instead Flint spread his legs wider, released Silver's right hip and wrapped a hand round Silver's painful erection. Flint's palm was hot and still slick with the remnants of oil. Silver felt a moan fall from his throat as his eyes flickered shut against the onslaught. He bucked backward, felt the pleasure shift from his skin to deep within his hips, drawing tight. He chucked his head back, arching himself into a groaning Flint as he came in hot streaks that wrung him dry and left him weak kneed. Flint stroked him through each pulse, holding him up as his own pace faltered again his cock clenched tight, until his own release came hot and fierce to be buried deep inside Silver.

The were quiet for a time. It was possibly the longest they had been in each other's company in silence as both settled back into themselves. Silver clenched his teeth as Flint withdrew. When he straightened Flint chucked a damp cloth at him from his own stand. Silver wiped away the worse of the mess and went for his belt.

When he looked up again Flint was considering him from his chair. The heavy design was meant to stay steady on rough water, but it had been ornately carved. With his britches loose and one ankle slung over his knee he looked the part of a pirate king.

'It is a shame the vanguard move in here tomorrow,' Flint said, and it was as much his tone as his words that surprised Silver.

'I'm flattered.'

Flint let that half smile curl one side of his face.

'Become my Quartermaster and I will consider your advice.'

Silver considered Flint and the sated lethargy of his limbs. Against his better judgement he hoped that they were not both fish food before it could happen again.

'I can hardly become Quartermaster overnight,' Silver said, knowing Flint knew as much, and therefore that Flint had no intention of changing his plans for the fort. Flint inclined his head, neither in agreement nor otherwise.

'Why not try to impress me,' Flint mocked.

Silver gave a soft snort and buckled his belt.

'I don't need to try,' Silver said as he departed to see what mischief Randal had caused in his absence.

Randal stopped his pealing and looked up as Silver entered the Sculley. He tipped his chin back and sniffed.

'Thief,' he snorted, teeth bared in an ugly smirk.

'Yes, Randal.' Silver was too satisfied to do more than shoot the miserly ex-cook a dour look. It would be a lie if he said he had not spared at thought for the actions that had just passed, however he had never considered that they would be anything other than a flight of fancy. Even Randal and the prospect of being shot from the water with the Captain and the rest of the crew couldn't shake his pleasant mood. 'Jealousy will get you nowhere, Randal. Now, tell me everything you know about Dufresne before Flint sends us to meet the sea sooner than I would prefer.'

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if I've missed any errors, I typed this up on a bus, yay for mobile hotspots :)
> 
> I don't ususally write fanfiction. In fact, this is the only time I ever have, and unless I find someone to ship Athos with, it will probably remain that way. Still, I hope you enjoy it for what it is.


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